


means are right for taking

by banshee_in_the_dark



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal, Breathplay, Dirty Talk, Emotional Manipulation, Established Relationship - Bellamy Blake/Roan, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Kink Meme, M/M, Name-Calling, Rape, Sexual Coercion, The 100 Kink Meme, Ultra Hardcore, Underage Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 08:33:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11353752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/banshee_in_the_dark/pseuds/banshee_in_the_dark
Summary: Kink Meme prompt fill.Mr. Blake and Mr. King have always been good to Clarke... They're old frat brothers of Jake and no strangers to Griffin family parties. When Clarke is fifteen, things take a turn when they help her drink just a little too much and get her alone...





	means are right for taking

**Author's Note:**

> I hoped to post this at my own time (my job has been keeping me from fandom life in general) but it's come to my attention that what amounts to a "fix it" fic of my own AU was recently posted anonymously. I'm not going to waste my time talking about it - imitation is the highest form of flattery, right? - or how rude it is to take another fan fiction author's work and using it as a baseline of your own without their express permission. Frankly, that fic is irrelevant and has zero impact on this AU and the future installments in development.
> 
> (I will however say, anyone who thinks that the actions in this AU are in any way redeemable - and yes, that's what you're doing anonymous author, you're redeeming a rapist. Good job - is sorely wrong, and frankly that mindset is far more problematic than fantasy rape. But to each their own, I guess.)
> 
> Anyway, I am the author of the infamous boanlarke rape fic, and proudly so. There's also more to come in this verse and it'll be just as fucked up and goodwrong as this. That's the _point_.
> 
> Beta'd by the one and only [MissMarissa](https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/MissMarissa/pseuds/MissMarissa), who is also in the process of writing the next installment of this series. We have irredeemable filth planned.
> 
> As always with these kinds of fics: heed the warnings and the tags. If there's something you take objection to in the realm of fantasy porn, don't read it. My responsibility to curate your fic experience limits to respecting AO3's warning and tagging system. The rest is on you.

Wobbly on her feet, Clarke leans on the wall, tries to blink her eyes to focus. When her feet try to land on a stair, it always feels like it’s further away than it ought to be and she lurches forward slightly with the force of her step.

Strong hands grip her narrow hips from behind, steadying her. “Easy there, you could fall and hurt yourself.”

With his help, Clarke navigates the stairs a little easier. She giggles. “Thank you, Mr. King.”

He wraps an arm around her shoulders and tucks her into his side. Clarke follows easily. It’s a relief to be able to count on him for support. He was kind enough to help her get a quiet place to lie down when she told him she wasn’t feeling very well. She would’ve made a fool of herself at the party if he and Mr. Blake hadn’t assisted her, and her dad would’ve been so embarrassed and disappointed. His boss was here and daddy had hoped to pitch a new idea to him using the casual setting of the BBQ to convince him.

Mr. King slowly leads her through the dim room. Her legs don’t seem to be functioning properly, like the floor shifts beneath her feet, always miscalculating where each step should land. It’s hard to focus on anything so she doesn’t notice much about the room, just that it’s dim and spacious, quiet and a little chilly. She remembers the tricky flight of stairs and connects the dots. She’s in the basement. She must've given him the wrong instructions to her room...

“Careful now,” Mr. King whispers patiently in her ear as he helps her down to an old chaise lounge that used to be on her dad's study before mom renovated it. The leather feels glorious against her sun-warmed skin, cool and buttery soft, it’s almost a sensory overload. It reminds her of afternoons spent curled up against the sloped back with her sketch pad while her dad worked on his computer.

Her legs are limp as Mr. King lifts them onto the chaise. Clarke blinks slowly, now that she’s not moving, the room has gradually stopped spinning around her. Mr. King’s hand is warm where it rests atop her knee and Clarke smiles. She’s always had a little crush on her dad’s old fraternity friends, Mr. King and Mr. Blake. They were always so nice to her, treating her not like a kid, but like an adult. Her dad had suggested she hang out with the other kids today but they were all younger than Clarke. She’s fifteen now and prefers adult company. Mr. King and Mr. Blake didn’t treat her like she was pestering them. They even gave her some booze.  _ “It’ll be our secret,” _ Mr. Blake had whispered in her ear as he poured clear liquid from a flask onto her punch.

She’d wanted to impress them a little today. It wasn’t the first time she drank alcohol, but what they gave her was clearly stronger stuff than the wine coolers she’d shared with her friends at a slumber party. At least she wasn’t feeling sick. The last thing she wanted was to puke in front of Mr. King. 

“These look very tight.”

His deep voice snaps her back to the present. She notices his large hand is on her hip now, his long index finger hooked on the belt loop of her cutoff shorts. The sight is surreal, as if she’s observing from a distance. 

He pulls on the belt loop, revealing angry red lines where the waistband of her shorts cut into her hips. It’s true, these shorts are a little old and she’s had a growth spurt. Her dad had suggested she wear something else this morning but Clarke liked how they looked on her. All the girls are wearing them now, and she filled them out better than she used to when she got them two years ago.

“Maybe you should take them off.”

She blinks, processes his words slowly as she watches his fingers pop the button and lower her zipper. Clarke frowns and something bad, something that settles like molten lead in her gut, stirs within her. 

“Hey,” she objects, weakly. “No, stop that.”

Mr. King seems deaf to her protests and before her mind can catch up to the act, he’s pulled her shorts down her legs. What’s worse, with the cool air licking between her legs, she realizes her bikini bottoms are gone, too.

Her vision blurs and she blinks to focus, feels wetness trickle down her cheeks. Tears. “What are you doing?”

Mr. King just smiles at her. His eyes are cold and mean and his hand presses down on the inside of her thigh. 

The stairs creak. Someone’s coming. Relief tastes sweet on her tongue as Clarke turns her head to watch the landing, waiting anxiously for her savior. 

She recognizes Mr. Blake's flip flops and a relieved smile stretches her lips. 

His dark eyes land on the scene in front of him. “What's going on here?” 

She wants to reach out to the safety of his presence but her limbs are too heavy. “ Please.” 

Mr. Blake crosses the distance with measured steps and stops beside Mr. King. He shakes his head. “Can't believe you started without me.”

Clarke shuts her eyes, desperate to distance herself from what's apparently an inescapable reality. 

“I was just helping her get more comfortable,” Mr. King chuckles. 

“I can see that.” 

Eyes still closed, Clarke is taken by surprise when a set of large hands grips her shoulders and pulls her up. Her body goes without resistance. She thinks about the clear liquid poured on her punch as tears fall quietly from her eyes.  _ Stupid, stupid, stupid. _

Mr. Blake straddles the chaise behind her and pulls her close, propping her up against his firm abdomen. Following his cue, Mr. King parts her legs, letting them dangle off the sides of the chaise. Her eyes remain stubbornly closed but she feels him shift around, feels the depression on the plush material near the opposite end of the chaise and the dull slide of his swim trunks against the soft leather as he scoots closer to her exposed groin. 

Fingers explore the sparse hair on her mound. “Jake?”

Mr. Blake chuckles, idly touches the strings pulling up her bikini top. “He found a common interest with his boss. Cartography, of all things.” 

“Lucky bastard.” Mr. King traces her folds and she can hear the fond humor in his voice.

“You know how he gets,” Mr. Blake continues, now softly running the pads of his fingers over the cups of her top. “It'll be hours before he notices his little girl is nowhere to be seen.”

Clarke whimpers. The mundane conversation had somehow allowed her to abstract herself from what is being done to her, and now it's like she inhabits her body after someone else took a long ride. All at once the sensations crash over her, the fear, the desolation, the unidentified tingling spread through her. 

She blinks her eyes open, feels small between Mr. King and Mr. Blake. “Please,” she finds her voice. “I won't tell anyone. Just let me go.”

They share an amused look but ignore her otherwise.

Mr. Blake cups her breasts in his large hands. “These are a nice surprise. They were tiny little buds last summer, remember?”

“No bigger than a plum,” Mr. King agrees. “Look at her now, wearing a big girl swimsuit.”

Mr. Blake hums and fondles her breasts. He pulls the triangular cups to the sides, revealing her pink nipples. They're poking out like they do when she gets cold and Clarke instinctively tries to cross her arms over her chest.

Mr. Blake shakes his head, smiling indulgently at her while Mr. King laughs. He circles her slim wrists and pulls her arms to her sides before his hands return to her breasts.

Mr. King is still laughing softly when his fingers begin rubbing circles over her clitoris. She knows what it's called because Raven Reyes, a senior and captain of her cheer squad, told her and her friends that's the spot you had to touch if you wanted to come. Clarke had tried but nothing she did felt like what Raven had described.

But Mr. King’s illicit touch seems to pull at something within her, and the more he rubs and rubs at the little nub, tension pools and coils low in her belly.

Her attention is pulled back to her breasts when Mr.Blake pinches and twists them. “I wonder what mommy and daddy think about their little girl being all grown up."

“They probably wonder how many guys she's spread her legs for,” Mr. King replies. He's rubbing her clit from side to side now and it feels good in an awful way. The friction of his calloused fingers on her dry flesh makes her gasp and want to inch away, but there's nowhere to go. Only Mr. Blake and his cruel fingers.

Mr. Blake pauses, keeps her nipples trapped in a tight clasp. “You don't think she's still a virgin?”

Mr. King lifts an eyebrow. “With tits like that? I doubt it."

“Good point.” Blood rushes back to her abused nipples when he releases them. Clarke bites her lip and swallows the pained whimper clawing at her throat. “Only one way to know for sure.”

Mr. King hums, stops rubbing her clit and for a short-lived, naive moment Clarke thinks he's done tormenting her. But then his middle finger touches her opening and she becomes painfully aware of the wetness gathered there.

He inserts his finger to the first knuckle, then adds a second finger with some difficulty. Clarke winces and shuts her eyes. “She’s fucking tight but I’m not feeling a hymen.”

“That's a shame,” Mr. Blake laments. “It can get torn by sports though. Our girl has been shaking pompoms since she could walk.”

Mr. King chuckles. “Benefit of the doubt huh? You should've gone to law school.” He removes his fingers from her body. “Check this out." He holds his fingers up and Mr. Blake makes a show of studying them.

“Huh.” He releases her breasts and touches the proffered finger. A thin thread of clear slime stretches between their fingers. “Well, she might still be a virgin but I don't think there's any doubt that she's a slut…”

The word lands on her like a blow. After everything they've to her today, abusing her trust and violating her body, they dare call her a slut? Clarke wants to scream at them, fight them, but whatever they slipped in her drink still has a hold on her. There's nothing she can do. 

“I'm not,” she chokes out through frustrated tears. “I'm not a slut.”

Their laugh is loud and mean and it bounces off the walls, smothering her. At once, Mr. Blake goes back to twisting her nipples as Mr. King thrusts two fingers into her channel. 

“Oh, Princess. Didn't mommy and daddy explain how this works?” Mr. King asks. His fingers drive hard inside her, making messy, wet noises as his thumb resumes rubbing her clit.

Mr. Blake lowers his head and touches his lips to the shell of her ear. “Good girls don't get wet when they get their little cunts touched without consent. You know what that makes you?” 

He traps her chin in his big hand, angles her head so she can't look away from Mr. King’s fingers rapidly slipping in and out her. 

Mr. King rolls her clit between his thumb and index finger, holds his fingers deep and crooks them. Her hips jerk off the chaise, sticky with sweat and the wetness sliding down her crack. Mr. Blake pinches her nipple hard when she closes her eyes, so she forces herself to keep them open, to watch what's being done to her.

“It makes you a filthy slut,” Mr. King says harshly.

The tension coiling within her reaches a pinnacle and she snaps like a rubber band. Mr. Blake slaps a hand over her mouth to smother her scream as her whole body pulses, one giant heartbeat with her throbbing cunt at the center. 

Over the deafening rush of blood to her ears, the only sounds she perceives is their laughter.

* * *

Bellamy feels the stretch of a smile as he presses his lips to her temple. Laughter rumbles in his chest as he holds Clarke close, a possessive arm thrown across her narrow waist. Her entire body rattles with the force of the orgasm they forced on her. Such a little thing, coming so hard. He adjusts his hand on her mouth so he doesn’t obstruct her airway, shares a knowing look with Roan who’s still busy at her cunt. There’ll be time for that later…

Her little hands fly to his wrist, trying to pull his hand away from her mouth. His palm is warm and damp with her saliva and she continues to valiantly scream, more in outrage now than pleasure. She glares at him through her tear-filled eyes. Bellamy shakes his head and clicks his tongue against his teeth.

“She acting up?” Roan asks.

Her muffled screams end abruptly when Bellamy delivers two swift slaps to her tits, landing directly over her tender nipples. Roan follows his lead and slaps the wet mess that is her cunt. She jerks and whimpers with every hit.

“There’s more where that came from,” Bellamy warns her, directing her head back and feeling her saliva trickle down his wrist. 

She closes her eyes and nods. Bellamy grins at Roan who hold his thumb up. Things are going smoothly.

Bellamy slowly drops his hand, wipes her spit off his palm on her chest and brushes a tender kiss to her trembling lips. This kind of kiss she’s familiar with. He and Roan have been a fixture in the Griffin house since before Clarke was born. She grew up having her two doting uncles and no one blinked an eye at the quick little pecks she gave them every once in awhile. Bellamy could take the kiss further, deepen it, show her just how they’ve wanted to kiss that sassy little mouth of hers, but instead he keeps it as casual and innocent as ever while his and Roan’s hands trail over her nakedness. It gives him a perverse satisfaction to know she’s being reminded in the most graphic of ways that there was a time she felt safe with them and now everything’s changed.

Roan stands up and Bellamy carefully lifts Clarke away from himself to deposit her on her back. He glances at Roan, finds his piercing eyes fixed on the vulnerable creature before them. Her fair skin in contrast with the deep burgundy leather of the old couch, hair spread in loose waves around her pretty face, legs wide open and hanging off the sides of the chaise. Even in the dim light of the basement her cunt glistens, her come smeared over her plump folds and the tops of the inside of her thighs. His cock jerks in his trunks and Bellamy massages himself unapologetically. She looks fucked out and helpless, and they’re only getting started.   

They kick off their flip flops and remove their clothes. Clarke opens her eyes and startles glancing from Bellamy's groin to Roan's. Bellamy smirks and follows her gaze from his uncut cock to Roan's circumcised dick. By the time they're done with her she's gonna be a pro cock pleaser and every inch a slut.

She moves onto her side, closes her legs protectively hugs her knees to her chest.

Roan touches his upper arm, spurring him to action. Seamlessly, they grab Clarke and gently pull her up until she’s sitting on the chaise with them on either side, no space left between them. Her head hangs low, hidden by the curtain of her hair. Bellamy gently tucks it behind her ears, rubs the back of his fingers over her damp cheek. Roan puts his arm around her shoulders and shakes her softly.

“Now, Clarke… You're a smart girl. I think you know that we're not going to just let you go until we're through with you.”

Her semblance of quiet dignity falls, tears cascade down her cheeks and powerful sobs shake her shoulders. She hides her face in her hands and tenses as they hold her close and try to comfort her.

“Shh, Princess. It's okay,” Bellamy kisses the top of her head.

“We're going to fuck you Clarke,” Roan tells her calmly, simply explaining a fact. “We've been waiting a long time for this moment. It doesn't have to be bad for you. We can make you like it.”

“I'd rather you didn't do it at all,” she protests.

They laugh softly, amused. 

Bellamy gently wipes her tears. “I'm afraid that's not an option. The only choice you can make is who of us gets to fuck you.”

Roan tilts her chin up and touches his lips to the top of her nose. “And if you don't decide,we'll both take turns.”

She swallows and Bellamy sees her study both their dicks, put real thought to their differences and similarities, trying to decide which one is the least threatening. 

“Will it hurt?” she asks in a small, voice avoiding eye contact.

Bellamy puts his hand on the top of her thigh, meets resistance as he attempts to press them open before he digs his nails in her creamy flesh and Clarke's muscles go lax and allow her legs to fall open.

She jerks when he presses his middle finger to her sticky opening. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Roan steadying her with a firm hand on her lower back. His fingertip circles the entrance before he pushes the digit into her pussy without warning. Even after the recent violation she's impossibly tight. His dick twitches as he gives her a few experimental thrusts.

“Yeah,” he replies. “It's gonna hurt.”

When Clarke was a little girl she fell off her bike and busted her knee right open. They’d been dicking around with Jake in the backyard of the shitty duplex Jake and Abby moved into junior year when she found out they were expecting, when her sharp cry of pain alerted them of her fall. They dropped the football they’d been tossing on the back and down the street they found her, crying and cradling her hurt knee. 

Bellamy remembers the frantic drive to the emergency room. Clarke wanted her mom, kept crying and asking for her. Jake was a mess and couldn’t get hold of Abby who was doing her internship in a different hospital, so while he went to pick her up, Bellamy and Roan stayed with Clarke. It’d be a few hours before a doctor could see her anyway, the nurse told them, but in the end the wait wasn't long at all. Jake and Abby still weren’t there, so Roan held Clarke in his lap while the doctor stitched up her knee under Bellamy’s imposing stare. Every time she flinched, every new bout of tears earned the doctor the combined force of their glares and a few whispered threats. He remembers it all like it was yesterday. She was in pain but so brave and held perfectly still for the doctor. She made them proud and they took her to get ice cream afterwards while they waited for her parents. 

She’s making that same face now, cradled in Roan’s lap, his legs on the inside of hers and pushed out, exposing her vulnerable cunt while Bellamy kneels between them and strokes his cock. She’s scared and she knows there’s pain in store for her, but she’s trying to be a brave little girl and take it. There’ll be no ice cream after this time, but if she’s good for them they’ll let her lick their dicks clean.

Dick in hand, Bellamy rubs the head over her folds. There’s the residual slickness of her cum but she could use to be a little more ready before he slides his cock into her. He rubs against her little clit and she twitches in Roan’s lap. “We’ll start with just the tip, yeah?” Bellamy says, tight circles exciting the little button. “Can you be a good girl and take it for me?”

She blinks, a fat tear falls down her cheek, but she nods. Roan kisses her hairline. “You’re gonna make that cock very happy, Princess.”

This time Bellamy finds sufficient wetness pooled around her entrance. He could keep stimulating her, making her relax more and more, make her slick and craving him. But this way is good too, she’s ready enough that he won’t hurt her, but when he drives his dick into her virgin cunt she’ll feel the stretch and toe that sharp line between pain and pleasure. He wants her to never forget the moment where they split her open, to look back and remember how they took her and made it hurt so good.

There’s a heavy silence in the basement as Bellamy’s cock pierces the boundary of her pussy. He feels Roan’s eyes on him but he can’t look away. Her tight channel swallows the tip with difficulty, adjusting to the relentless invasion. Clarke’s small whimper is loud in his ears, a pained little sound he wants to hear over and over and over again.

So transfixed Bellamy is on the sight between her legs, he startles when Roan’s hand cradles the top of her cunt. He licks his lips, pulls his hips back so the mushroomed head pops free from the tight clutch of Clarke’s cunt. Roan dips two fingers right where Bellamy’s cock was seconds ago, then trails them wet and slick over to her clit. Just as he tickles the hood, Bellamy pushes in, a little further than before.  

“How is she doing?” Roan asks him, his long middle finger petting the side of her clit. 

“Taking it like a champ,” Bellamy groans, sinks another thick inch into her. “So fucking tight, man.”

“Hmm, a tight little pussy. You think it’ll be able to take your big cock?”

“Oh, I’ll make her take it. This hungry little cunt needs a good dicking, isn’t that right, Princess?”

Clarke sniffles and turns her face away.

“Ah ah ah,” Roan catches her jaw in his hand and places her back in position, tilting her face down. “It’s your first time Clarke, you don’t want to miss a second of it. Keep your pretty eyes open.”

“That’s a good girl.” Bellamy scoots on his knees and slides his dick almost all the way inside her. She jerks and gasps when he hits the new depth, keeps her head down like they want it. Bellamy wraps his hand around her hair, keeping it out of the way. He wants to watch her sweet face while she watches herself get fucked. 

Roan’s hairy legs tickle Bellamy’s sides, a sensory reminder of how close they are. Clarke’s back is kept firmly against his impressive chest and there’s nearly no room left between Bellamy’s chest and her front. He wishes Roan was in her ass, too, so he could feel him fucking her against him. 

He snaps his hips slowly, gives her measured strokes as he gradually sinks his cock into her tight channel. She takes his cock, just like they knew she would. It’s hard on her, her breaths are sharp and achy every time he pulls back and her walls cling to his girth. 

Between his tender fucking and Roan’s finger on her clit, Bellamy’s cock comes out shinier every time it leaves her cunt and some of her wetness is even dripping out of her. 

“Will you look at that,” Roan muses, pulls back the hood of her clit with his index and teasing the exposed nub with his middle finger. Clarke keens and this time when she jerks, her pelvis rises to meet both his cock and Roan’s fingers. “And she said she wasn’t a slut.”

“I think you’re right,” Bellamy agrees, snapping his hips a little faster. He’s not all the way in, a few inches still waiting for that privilege, but her cunt already feels overstuffed. The head of his cock presses against the end of her channel and it gives. She can take a little more, hell, she can take it all, and if she can’t, he’ll make her. But he has to be careful. They don’t want to break their new toy before they’ve really had the chance to play with it. “A good girl wouldn’t be clinging to my dick all messy and slick like she is.”

“You know, I think she likes it. Being split open on your big cock like the little whore she is.”

“Is that so, Princess?” he coos. Roan tilts her head back against his shoulder and Clarke looks back at Bellamy with wide, teary eyes. “Do you like my dick deep in your little cunt?”

Her lip trembles and she shakes her head no, but her cunt clenches around him.

Bellamy groans and loses his rhythm. He slips another inch inside her and she clenches again, her jaw dropping open with a wordless little cry. “You have a present for me? Is your filthy cunt going to hug my cock real deep?”

He feels the uncontrollable twitching of her muscles and shares a look with Roan. She’s there. 

“It’s okay, Princess,” Roan kisses her temple, tickles her clit, arches his hips against her making her swallow the last inch of Bellamy’s cock. “You do as sluts do and cum all over that cock.”

Everything inside her goes impossibly tight. If it were possible, Bellamy thinks her cunt would cut circulation on his dick, she’s squeezing him that tight. Anticipating her cry, Roan slaps a large hand over her mouth and nose, effectively cutting off her airflow. The tightness lets up around his dick and the convulsions begin, rhythmic against his stiff cock. Her eyes go wide and she tries to push away Roan’s hand, desperate for a gulp of air. Bellamy shakes his head no, fucks her hard and as deep as he’ll go as she comes and comes. Her eyes dim and her limbs lose strength. She needs to breathe and they won’t let her. Lethargy hits her whole body but the snug clutch of her cunt doesn’t let up. 

When Roan removes his hand, Clarke’s whole body comes back to life and she catapults into a second orgasm as she gulps in mouthfuls of air. 

“There’s a good girl,” Bellamy praises, holding his stiff cock deep inside to be massaged by her whore cunt.

* * *

It’s like... flying. 

Her heartbeat expands across her body, a deep pulse that reaches her toes and the ends of her hair. Her body is not her own, it's been overtaken, both by a swarm of sensations as by the two men forcing them on her. She can't hear, she can't speak, she can't breathe.

Her lungs fight and revolt against her. She wants for air but it's denied to her. Her soul lifts and floats, and it's like flying, like in a dream where you see yourself, Clarke looks down and watches. That's her, being taken, being used. She feels it on her body even as she floats, the pounding between her thighs, the heavy hand smothering her. The closeness of their bodies had suffocated her, they closed in on her. There was no escape, and Clarke just wanted it to be over.

Her vision dims, she really needs to breathe. She looks down again, but the scene has changed. It's before. She's sitting on the chaise, face hidden by her hands, sobbing. Mr. King and Mr. Blake try to comfort her, but it makes it worse. She doesn't want them to do all the things they say they want to do. She doesn't want to hurt, and they promise her it will. The dull pain and the continued pounding between her thighs reminds her of the present and the truth of that promise.

They made her choose and she cries all over again when the scene before her reprised her shame. They made her touch them, fist her hands around their cocks really tight. That's almost how tight her pussy would be, they said. They were both scary, one longer but the other thicker. It would hurt either way, they told her. It had to. That's what sluts get. She rebelled against the word, but chose Mr. Blake. 

Black spots dance before her eyes and she's no longer flying. She's under water. She's heavy and sagging and the only things anchoring her are the arms around her and the cock splitting her open. She's going down and down until all she registers is the violence between her thighs and dark pleasure swallowing her whole.

Suddenly, she gulps and lurches back into her body, back into the present, an unwanted, unstoppable orgasm making her twist and twitch inside.

“Welcome back,” Mr. King chuckles in her ear. “We thought we lost you for a minute there.”

“I guess that proves how much of a slut you are, Princess,” Mr. Blake observes, snaps his hips against hers in rapid succession. “Two orgasms. This cunt looked so innocent…”

“I'm not a slut,” she repeats. No matter how many times they call her that, she knows it's not true. She has to convince them. Maybe if she does, they’ll stop... 

“Is that so? Then how do you explain this?”

Mr. Blake slides his cock out of her tender pussy and she sighs with relief. She's so sore, she wants to curl in a ball and forget about it all. 

Something trickles out of her pussy and Clarke panics. It feels just like when she's on her period and she unexpectedly leaks from her tampon onto her panty liner. She looks down between her thighs but there's no blood, just clear wetness, viscous and shiny. 

“See, Princess? Your pussy weeps for a cock.” Mr. King illustrates his words by wrapping his hand around hers and pressing her fingers to her soppy flesh. 

Mr. Blake's hand joins theirs. Together, both men force her fingers past her quivering entrance. “You ever touched yourself here?”

She shuts her eyes and feels herself blush. After everything they've fine to her, they keep finding new ways to exploit her.

“Hmm, these little fingers feel quite at home in her cunt,” Mr. King speculates.

“But have they made her cum? Do you think she rubbed her clitty made herself cum while mommy and daddy slept down the hall?”

“I didn't!” she cuts in, furious and ashamed and so tired. 

“Didn't touch yourself? Or didn't cum?” Mr. King presses.

Clarke swallows and tucks her chin low. They can't have this too.

A sharp pinch on her left nipple. “The truth Clarke.”

It's the first time they've called her by her name since they started molesting her. It sounds harsh and mean and it scares her. She wants to be their princess again…

_ No _ , she rebels. She doesn't want that. Their princess is a slut. She wants to prove them wrong.

She raises her chin bravely and arms herself with courage. She didn't want or consent to anything they did to her. She is innocent. “Didn't cum,” she challenges. There. Now they have to let her go. Sluts cum and she didn't before.They made her. It's their fault. Now they have to see they made a mistake. They'll have to apologize to her. 

She sees them exchange a glance over her shoulder and hope soars within her. At last, she showed them. 

Mr. Blake shakes his head. “Oh, Princess. I'm so sorry. I didn't think you had it so bad.”

Panic, cold and sickly, trickles in her bloodstream. “What do you mean?”

Mr. King sighs and tucks her head under his chin, petting her hair soothingly. “If you'd touched yourself and cum on your own, that's one thing. You'd still be a slut but no more than most girls your age are.”

“But if you couldn't cum until we touched you…” 

“Until we hurt you like we did…”

“That makes you a whore,” Mr. Blake finishes.

Her heart takes the words like a blow and shatters into a thousand little pieces. “No,” she denies, vision blurring as new tears develop. That can't be right, can it? Not all girls can make themselves orgasm, her friend Raven told her it was normal. 

But what if they're right? They've taken everything she didn't want to give them and she fought them, she begged, she cried. But she came. Multiple times. 

Mr. Blake touches her chin and carefully tilts her face to his. The expression in his eyes is so tender, she’s brought back to all those years growing up around them, how caring and sensitive to her needs they always were. They are the same men who played tea party with her, and her broken mind doesn’t know how to reconcile that. “It's alright, Princess. It's not your fault. We're gonna help you.” 

She winces when his cock penetrates her again, her sore walls struggling to adjust to the sudden invasion. Like before, Mr. King’s fingers rub at her clit, forcing her to respond. Mr. Blake thrusts and thrusts inside her, her pussy clings and hugs his cock and Clarke hates herself when she recognizes the telling signs of an orgasm approaching. The few times she touched herself she could feel a crescendo, instinctively knew she was building towards something amazing, but it was always out of reach.

Now her body is not her own and no matter how hard she fights, they always shove her off the edge. 

Mr. Blake angles his hips and she jolts when his cock hits a special spot inside her. Everything coils within her, heat pools in her belly and coupled to the stimulation on her button, she panics. “Please don't make me…” she can't finish the sentence, she's too ashamed, too tired. “I don't want to. Please.”

“You're going to,” Mr. King rasps in her ear, rolls her clit between his fingers as Mr. Blake rhythmically pounds against that sensitive spot inside her. “Let go.”

And, she does. She can't help herself. That's the last thought that crosses her mind before she clenches and flutters around his cock. The orgasm is a shockwave and she's forced to ride it. With every pulse she feels she swallows Mr. Blake's cock deeper and deeper inside. Even Mr. King who is just holding her, she feels he has invaded her. Like they're a part of her now and forever, rooted deep, like a stain she can never wipe away.

She wants to shove it all away, she wants to take flight and never return to this defiled body. But they keep her there, and they make her  _ feel _ .

Mr. Blake is close, he tells Mr. King and her addled brain processes the words. “ ...paint every inch of this hungry little cunt with my cum. Are you ready, Princess?” he asks as he strokes his cock in and out of her quivering pussy. 

Clarke shakes her head, panic and horror fighting to surface through the aftershocks of her orgasm. That's how babies are made. They can’t… She can't let them do that to her. “Please don't. Not there.”

“If you want his cum someplace else, you’ll have to ask real nicely,” Mr. King advises. “Maybe your tummy? Or here?” He cups her breasts and lifts them, his long digits digging into the supple flesh. “Yeah, I think these tits would look real pretty covered in cum.”

She whimpers. “On my… on my breasts,” she stutters finally.

The hands groping her tighten their hold and she gasps in pain. “That’s not the word we’re looking for, and I told you to ask nicely,” Mr. King warns her. “Otherwise, he’s going to flood your cunt. Is that what you want?”

She hears Mr. Blake chuckle as she shuts her eyes and vigorously shakes her head no. 

“Please, Mr. Blake,” Clarke starts with a small voice. “On my tits.”

For a second she worries they’ll make her say the filthy word, but Mr. Blake takes pity on her and smiles. “You got it, Princess.”

The convulsions around his cock have lessened but when he pulls out it still stings. He stands up and strokes his thick cock, her shiny wetness making his fist slide easily along his girth. Thick ropes of pearly cum erupt from the tip as he groans throatily and throws his head back. They land on the shelf of her tits, held up by Mr. King. 

Clarke closes her eyes to it all, but with every ribbon that touches her skin, her pussy flutters and wantonly clenches around air.

“What a mess,” Mr. King approves, voice low and velvety in her ear. A drop of Mr. Blake’s cum hangs heavy from the slit on his cockhead and Mr. King catches it with his fingertip. The shock of seeing him so casually touch another man wears off the instant the sticky finger is pressed to her panting lips.   

Her curious tongue ventures out seeking the new taste. It reminds her of the ocean and, of its own volition, her mind conjures up flashes of happy days spent at the beach, building sandcastles with her dad and her mom smiling while she hands her a bottle of water to rinse her mouth after a tumble in the waves. 

“I think she likes it,” Mr. Blake muses.

Mr. King chuckles and kisses the top of her head. “Of course she does. What else can be expected from a slut?”

Her body reacts oddly to the harsh word spoken in such an affectionate tone. It sounds almost like a praise, and she so desperately wants to be good… Her mind rebels but her body sinks into him. Mr. King sounds pleased and Mr. Blake is smiling down at her, not a trace of the mean streak they showed her in sight. They won’t hurt her anymore if they’re happy with her.

Mr. Blake reaches for her, his large hands catching her under her armpits and Clarke’s arms and legs wrap around him without hesitation when he lifts her up. Mr. King kisses her tailbone and stands up, leaving room on the chaise. Mr. Blake carefully helps her down and Clarke curls on her side.

Her eyes fall shut and she heaves a sigh of relief. It’s over. They’re done with her. Now she can try to forget this ever happened. The laundry room is down here, there’s a sink and towels. She can get cleaned up and pull herself together before going back upstairs. How much time has passed? It can’t be much, Mom would’ve come looking for her. Going back to the party and pretending everything is normal while Mr. King and Mr. Blake are there,  _ knowing _ , is the last thing she wants to do. But her mom will need help with the ice cream and cleaning up… Maybe Clarke will tell her she’s sick and mom will let her retire to her room. 

Yes, she’ll rest for a bit now, clean up and go see her mother. Tomorrow will be soon enough to try to make sense of everything that happened today.

Someone sits beside her head and fingers gently start to comb her hair. Mr. Blake, she thinks, as a small smile curls her lips. She assumed they’d leave right away after they were done with her. It’s nice that they're sticking around a little longer, just being here for her.

The couch dips on the other end and Mr. King’s now familiar hands massage her tired legs. They murmur but Clarke’s can’t catch a word they say, the soothing hands lulling her to further relaxation. This is... nice. 

His big hands caress up the back of her legs, massaging her butt cheeks. Fingertips brush the crack between them and her heartbeat spikes, snapping her to attention from her almost sleep. She swallows, keeps her eyes shut, waits for the massage to go back to being nice and innocent. The globes of her ass are separated, exposing a part of herself she never thought she’d show another person.

She hears the stark pop of a plastic cap snapping open and jerks when a slippery drop of lotion-like liquid lands over her tight sphincter.     

“Easy,” Mr. Blake says softly. Mr. King’s fingers rub the lube over the scrunched up orifice and Clarke whimpers and tries to move away.

Mr. King throws an arm over her hips as Mr. Blake holds her down with a hand on her shoulder. They don't hurt her but apply enough pressure that moving is not possible.

“Relax,” Mr. King advises. “It'll hurt worse if you tense up.”

“We don't want to hurt you.”

She stares up at Mr. Blake's patient eyes. “But I thought…”

“You thought we were done?” he guesses. An indulgent, kind smile curves his lips. The way he looks at her warms her, makes her feel soft and safe for a brief moment before her mind and her body remembers all he did to her. She wants to capture that short moment of bliss, and she hates it. “Not just yet, Princess. You have to be brave for a little longer.”

Tears gather in her eyes. Clarke inhales sharply through her nose in an effort to stay focused. Why does he have to look at her like that? “You promised,” she reminds them, accusatory.

“We promised only one of us would fuck your pussy if you picked one.”

“And I did!” she argues.

Mr. King nods. “You did. If you hadn't we would've taken turns on your little cunt before fucking your ass. We're accommodating your wishes, Clarke.”

Like before with Mr. Blake, her name on his lips lands on her like a blow. Frustration and anger clog in her throat, surging and mixing with the insidious distress at the thought of disappointing them. 

“Please,” she begs when he presses on her tight hole, clenching hard to keep the probing finger out. “I don't want that.”

“Well, if that's really how you feel.” His hand moves away and his fingers now feel around the entrance of her abused pussy. “I'll fuck you here, then. But I'm not wasting my cum anywhere else, no matter how nicely you beg me.”

“You have to make a choice, Princess,”Mr. Blake tells her. “He is fucking you either way, it wouldn't be fair otherwise. He comes in your pussy or deep in your ass, the decision is yours.”

As terrifying as the prospect of Mr. King’s cock sliding into her ass is, it’s less so than the possibility of getting pregnant. And he would knock her up, with her luck just once is all it’d take. He’d fuck a baby into her and how was she supposed to explain it to her parents? They’d be so disappointed… And she’s too young to be a mother.

“Okay,” she agrees with a heavy heart, anxiously anticipating the pain that’s in store for her. This time, when Mr. King caresses her tight rosebud, Clarke doesn’t shy away. She gulps down her pride and pushes her ass into his touch.  

Shivers run down her spine as Mr. King spreads the globes of her ass again, and his fingertips slide over her asshole with increasing friction. Every muscle in hr body is tensed and coiled, seeming prepared to jerk away and escape at the first chance she gets. But she resists the urge. Mr. Blake reaches for her hand and threads their fingers together. Her answering grip disturbs her as much as it pleases him.

Much to her dismay, Clarke grows used to the relentless slide of Mr. King’s fingers and feels the familiar presence of unexpected pleasure humming in her core. She relaxes and softens gradually. Her insides clench with every slick touch on the puckered ring of muscle and her hips angle back a fraction. 

A protest rises up her throat when he begins to press a finger inward, only to be thwarted by Mr. Blake. He cups the back of her head and carefully arranges her so her head is resting on his naked thigh. He caresses her cheek as Mr. King breaches her tense opening, wipes away a silent tear with his thumb and leans down to kiss her forehead. Mr. King’s finger moves a little further and she snaps back from the brief distraction. 

She reels at the intrusion, her tight muscles gripping the offensive digit. She feels full, so full, muscles pulling and struggling at the unwanted invasion. The soft tissue resists the probe and her body jerks at the strange electric sensation. 

“You’re doing great, Princess,” Mr. King praises. His finger remains in place as he leans forward to kiss the flaring curve of her hip. "Relax and let me show you how a good little slut cums like this."

Arguing, protesting, is useless. His tone and his finger are implacable. Mr. Blake plays with her hair as Mr. King continues probing her, wiggling his finger inside her before sliding it in and out a couple of times. She hears the sound of the bottle of lube uncapping before he squirts a generous amount over his finger and her asshole. The brief chill shocks her, but the invasion of a second finger down right  _ hurts _ .

Her limbs tremble and she gasps with pain, her channel softening and stretching under Mr. King’s persisting efforts. He works on her patiently, widening her secret passage. 

"Hug your knees, Princess,” Mr. Blake advises softly. His thumb touches the corner of her mouth in a possessive caress.

Clarke follows his instruction without argument. She feels the twitch and pull of her tight muscles as she adjusts, the unyielding fingers seeming to grow in size as she moves.

“Very good,” Mr. King approves. His fingers thrust in and out and Clarke notices how easily they seem to move despite the burning tightness of her hole. “So proud of you, Princess.”

Her lips part with a indecent moan. His praise washes over her like a warm balm and she craves it even as he forces her to accept his degrading violation. She disgusts herself. Maybe they were right about her all along. Maybe she is the slut they claim her to be. Why else would she feel so conflicted about what they’re doing to her when it’s so objectively  _ wrong _ .

“I think she’s ready for another finger,” Mr. King murmurs. “Although using this tight ass right now with my cock is tempting.”

“You’d break our new toy,” Mr. Blake snickers.

“Hmm. Another finger it is, then.” 

Clarke expected the burn of a third finger penetrating her and it doesn't disappoint. She gasps and whimpers, grips Mr. Blake’s hand and tries to let herself be distracted by his hand massaging her neck. Their vague words of encouragement wash over her and make warmth bloom within her. Her body disassociates from her rebelling mind, beginning to crave more. Her cunt clenches around nothing, making her anal muscles clutch Mr. King’s fingers tightly. The burning stretch in her back passage blends with the needy desire of her cunt to be filled.

It feels good so she does it again. And again, and again. Her folds are swollen and wet beyond belief, both with her own natural slick and the lube trickling down from her ass. With every clench she feels the wetness dribble out of her slit and coat the inside of her thighs. She wouldn’t be surprised if she left a puddle on the couch. 

Her clit feels huge, swollen and oversensitive. Clarke hugs her knees harder and rubs her thighs, stimulating the engorged nub. Before she knows it, an orgasm slams into her. She presses her thighs harder putting as much pressure on her clit as possible to draw out her climax as the fingers on her ass gain speed. 

“That’s a good girl, cumming all on her own,” Mr. King praises her. 

Cold shame trickles down her spine even as the blooming heat of her orgasm spreads through her belly and into her limbs. God, they were right about her. There’s no doubt anymore. She’s a slut.

“I think she’s ready for your cock,” she hears Mr. Blake tell Mr. King. Her breath hitches on a half-sob, half-moan.

* * *

With Bellamy’s help, Roan arranges Clarke on the chaise to better receive his cock in her ass. She is really a pretty little thing, making not a sound of protest as they shift her on her forearms and knees. They only harbored innocent affection for her when she was younger, there was nothing sexual about their love for her when she was a child. But they knew she’d grow up into a beautiful young lady one day, and if they didn’t get to her first, He and Bellamy knew  _ someone _ else would. And that someone didn’t deserve her.

The sweet contraction of the muscles of her asshole around his fingers almost made him come. She was just what they wanted, and this little exercise proved they could give her just what she needed, whether she liked it or not. Roan continues to slide his fingers in and out of her for a moment before abruptly removing them, seeing her tight hole open like a hungry little mouth, gaping and silently asking for something to fill it.

Roan slicks up his cock with lube and rubs the tip over her pursed rosebud, pressing against it until it pushes in with a slight pop. Her soft cry of alarm turns into a throaty whine as she looks back over her shoulder, sees the head of his cock surrounded by the tight ring of her asshole. She tries to crawl forward, away from his invasion, but this isn’t their first rodeo. Exchanging a glance with him, Bellamy places his hands over her shoulders and guides her down with steady pressure until her chest is pressed against the chaise, while Roan wraps a fist in her golden hair. He pulls her head back, stretching her neck and making her tender tits drag with a sweaty sound of friction over the leather surface of the chaise. 

“Don’t fight it, Princess,” Roan whispers, rocking his hips forward and sliding a thick inch of cock into her virgin channel.

Clarke remains tense and panting, but stays in place and passive, allows him to take her ass. Roan grins at Bellamy and grips her slim hips, revels in her choked gasp as he drives his cock steadily into her. The rubbery ridge of her sphincter is tight and unforgiving, it fights him. He shoots Bellamy a look and his partner immediately starts to comb her hair and massage her scalp. Roan plants his hands on the chaise on either side of her and leans over to kiss over the ridges and bumps of her spine. 

"Relax, Princess. Open for him," he hears Bellamy whisper in her ear. “Why don’t you rub your clit? Make it feel good, huh?”

Roan waits for a moment, sees a shiver run through her and then, slowly, her left hand moves to her wet pussy, pressing her clit to the heel of her palm. He is filled with an overwhelming sense of pride as she moans softly and relaxes around his cock.

Bellamy’s eyes fix on his cock less than a third inside her ass as he absentmindedly massages her scalp. Roan puts on a show for him, pushing his cock deeper and spreading the globes of her ass to give him an unhindered view of her tight hole widening around him. Clarke gasps and moans lamely, and her hand brushes his balls as she rubs faster at her pussy. 

Roan groans, watches his long cock slowly move deeper and deeper into the grip of her untouched ass. With one final push, he’s all the way in, his balls pressing against her slick cunt, his cock driven all the way inside her asshole. Clarke’s moans are sharp and aching. He leans to her ear. "You feel that, Princess? My cock so deep in your ass?" She nods. Her eyes are scrunched shut and her cheeks are wet with tears. "You’re gonna cum just like this, with my big cock pounding into you and then you’re gonna feel me spill my load, coat every inch of you with my cum. You’re gonna  _ beg _ me for it. And then, you’re gonna say thank you." 

Clarke simply whimpers.

The sounds she makes as he fucks her are music to his ears. Loud gasps when he pulls back, pained little moans when he pushes back in, choked breaths as he increases his speed. Roan grits his teeth and hisses as he moves inside her tight channel, lengthening his thrusts gradually, building up to the real ass pounding he planned for her.

“How’s that little pussy doing?” he pants, snapping his hips against her. His balls slap her cunt and her rapidly moving fingers. 

Clarke whines, frustrated. “I - I can’t,” she crooks out.

Roan and Bellamy share a look. He sees the pride and amusement he feels reflected in his partner’s face. Roan chuckles and sits back on his heels as he pulls Clarke over his lap with her legs outside his, his cock never abandoning her ass. He props her up against his chest, his arms thick bands around her waist. He fucks into her as Bellamy seamlessly bats away her hand and fixes his hungry mouth on her cunt.

“Oh my God,” Clarke says, voice strained and cracking.

Keeping an arm firmly around her middle, Roan goes for her heaving tits, alternating attention between each one. He gropes her supple flesh, twists and flicks her nipples, all the while rocking his long cock inside her and barely pulling out. Bellamy’s mouth on her works fast, kissing her tenderly abused cunt with violent hunger. She chokes on an unearthly, keening moan, and tenses in his arms before spasming when the orgasm slams into her. 

Roan feels her ass convulsing around his cock, the already tight walls clenching hard. He grits his teeth, reveling in the nearly unbearable pleasure around his cock. He bites down on her neck. “Say it,” he growls.

“Please, please,” Clarke gasps, tries to push Bellamy away but he takes her wrists and holds her arms still at her side. 

His partner takes a brief break from slurping her cunt. “You know what he wants to hear. Say it and it’ll all be over.” Then he attaches his lips to her swollen clit and Clarke jerks and whimpers.

“Please,” she repeats. Roan grips her hips and slams her down hard on his cock. “Please come inside.”   

She stays supple and submissive as he moves his dick faster and harder inside her ass and Bellamy sucks on her clit. Just as another climax is wrung out of her, Roan presses his cock as deep inside her as he’ll go and lets the contractions of her ass pull his orgasm from him. The sharp, almost painful pleasure is unlike anything he’s ever felt. There have been others, of course, but their Princess is special. He gazes at Bellamy’s deep brown eyes as she pulls his cum from his balls, and knows his partner feels the same about her.

His softening cock slowly slides out of her as he kisses her neck and caresses her arms while Bellamy massages the tops of her thighs and kisses her belly. Her hips unconsciously move and she angles her head to the side, giving Roan more room. Every few minutes a shudder moves through her body and they continue the soft, gentle caresses of his hands. 

“What do you say, Princess?” Bellamy prompts her after sucking a love bite right over the edge of her sparse pubic hair.

The walls of her throat contract and relax as she swallows thickly. Roan feels the movement against his lips.

Her voice is small and whispery when she speaks again. She sounds young, and vulnerable, and ashamed. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Princess,” Roan says, hugging her to him affectionately.

Giving her privacy and time to clean up and pull herself together before going back to the party is the only compromise he and Bellamy are willing to allow. For now. Appearances must be kept. Bellamy and him disappearing and reappearing together won’t raise any eyebrows, but if they have little Clarke in tow? They can’t afford to raise any suspicion. Too much is riding on this.

They look back at her one last time from the top of the stairs. She’s sitting up on the chaise, hugging her knees with her face buried there, shoulders shaking as she sobs in silence.

Roan palms Bellamy’s ass and prompts him up the stairs. Their little Princess is not going anywhere, and they have plans for her.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I guess if you read this far and don't hate me/have at least two functioning neurons and can realize this is just hardcore porn and in no way a reflection of my character and that of everyone who enjoys a dark and edgy fantasy to get off to - leave a comment please!


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